


Handprint

by neocitybynight



Category: K-pop, NCT (Band)
Genre: Fyp, Gen, just a little supernatural drabble, siren au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25394218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neocitybynight/pseuds/neocitybynight
Summary: As a child, you dreamed of sirens. As an adult, a near-drowning experience and a moonlit swim may be just what you need to reignite your belief.
Relationships: Nakamoto Yuta/Reader
Kudos: 10





	Handprint

The cold sea water rushes into your mouth, stealing the breath from your lungs, seeping into your pores and freezing your extremities. Salt and brine fill your mouth, your heart pounding loudly, too loudly in your ears as your body is tossed and spun by the waves.

It was your fault, you suppose, for daring to venture out this late, swimming where the current is rough and whirlpools are frequent, but you’ve never feared the water before. A strong swimmer, even as a small child, it’s like the sea is in your blood, its tenebrous depths beckoning to you, a conch’s horn call that you can never resist. 

It’s what has kept you here, in the small town where you grew up, the tourist trap of a fishing village where money is scarce and whispers abound of _sirens._ Hauntingly beautiful, ravenous for flesh, they’ll spirit your children away, dragging them to the depths of Atlantis. Of course, it’s all make believe, but that didn’t stop you from playing sirens as a child - you even had an imaginary friend, a siren with a tail as silver as his hair, startling beautiful, who would play in the waves with you, just a flash in the corner of your eye, the flip of a silvery fin. All you had to do was close your eyes, and call his name. **Yuta.**

 _Yuta._ As the air is pushed from your body, your limbs growing numb, you wonder, is this dying? No life flashing, no light, just coldness, loneliness, darkness, and-

 _Yuta._ A cold hand closes around your body, strong arms wrapping around your chest, and you feel the sensation of being lifted, a tremendous push, water and sound and light and noise rushing into your ears and it’s all too much and your vision goes black.

You awake and keel over, retching out sea water, feeling the crunch of sand beneath you. Opening your eyes, you see the soft purple glow of the sunset, the first twinkling of stars in the sky. You cough and groan, gulping great lungfuls of air, hands scrabbling in the sand. As you shake and shiver, regaining feeling in your limbs, you hear a splash.

Blinking salt water out of your eyes, you look to the water. Its indigo depths are calm now, knocking against the shore with mocking softness. But out in the water, maybe twenty feet out from shore, you see a pale flash of-

It’s him. Silver hair like spun moonlight, glowing blue eyes you can see, even from here. He’s submerged, up to his chest, but you can see the beating of water behind him, the slightly churn that indicates his tail. He’s every bit as beautiful as you remember, feline features that should be scary, but have always held a strange comfort for you. “Yuta,” you croak, voice ragged and salt-burned.

He’s gone. With nothing more than a splash, a flicker of silver scales, the water is calm again. A strange feeling, a sense of bereavement, feels your chest, and for one crazy instant, you want to dive after him, hands plumbing the depths of the sea, eyes stretched wide as you search for something, anything, to tell you that this was real, that it wasn’t entirely in your head. 

But the feeling fades, and you manage to pick yourself up and get into your car, driving back to your little Cape cottage. After taking a hot shower, gargling away all the salt and sand and death filling your mouth, you step out onto the bath mat, skin bathed in steam. As you towel off, hand pressing into your left shoulder, you wince - looking down, you see a strange mark marring your skin. A bruise, almost exactly in the shape of a hand.


End file.
